


A Mouse and an Elephant

by maria_j_harper



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Due to angst, F/M, Scanlan is meddlesome, Unresolved Feelings, all of the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maria_j_harper/pseuds/maria_j_harper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've known each other since they were kids, and now they both fear telling each other how they feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mouse and an Elephant

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I wanted to put in my two cents in the "who does Pike have a thing for" debate in the form of a fic, mostly because making fanart is hard for me as I have only a very little artistic talent. Enjoy :D.

Scanlan beamed at Percy. “I’ve finally figured it out! It’s you!”  
Percy arched an eyebrow. “Figured what out, exactly? What’s me?” he inquired dryly.  
“Who Pike is in love with! See, I overheard her telling Grog that she was keeping an eye on the person through magic. Didn’t she give you a talisman before she left? She could be using it to scry on you right now!”  
Percy blinked slowly, looking down at the gnome, eyes calling him the village idiot without having to say a thing. “Really? Me? You think so? Tell me Scanlan, at what point in all our adventures has Pike shown any inclination of thinking of me as more than a friend?”  
“Just recently! She didn’t give anyone else a talisman, did she?” Scanlan said brightly.  
“But outside of that, she has always treated me with the exact same amount of affection as she’s treated any of our other close friends. In fact, I can only think of one person she’s ever treated any special way, which is Grog, and I sincerely doubt she’s in love with him.” Percy’s words were measured as always, but even so, it took Scanlan a moment to catch his meaning.  
“Wait… really? I never considered it before, but now that you mention it, it makes sense! They’ve known each other for so much longer than any of us have!” His eyes widened with realization.  
Percy did not like Scanlan’s tone. “Wait, didn’t I just say that it wasn’t him? Think about it, the two of them? They’re completely incompatible.”  
“Which is why Pike never said anything! Percy, do you realize what this means?”  
“That we should leave well enough alone and let them sort out things on their own in their own time?” Percy asked, not especially hopeful that his suggestion would be taken. He knew Scanlan far too well, well enough to know just what the bard would say next.  
“No, that we have to get those two crazy kids together!”

 

The Whitestone evening was chill and damp. Spring was on it’s way, but it sure didn’t feel that way with winter’s teeth still in the wind that drove fat, heavy raindrops between layers of armor and cloth until those who ventured outside were drenched to the bone. Fortunately for Vox Machina though, all of its members were indoors. Most had called it an early night and gone to the De Rollo’s castle, oppressive clouds calling on everyone’s (especially Keyleth’s) hibernation instincts. Scanlan and Grog, however, had decided to go on one of their traditional jaunts to the nearest house of ladies of negotiable affections.  
After a pleasant couple of hours, however, Scanlan suggested that they go out for drinks. Grog happily agreed, after his friend had promised to buy the first round. Thusly, the goliath was quite pleasantly tipsy, on the edge of drunk, when Scanlan asked, “Hey, you know how when I was in love with Pike, I tried cutting back on this sort of thing?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Did you ever feel like you could do that for someone?”  
Grog’s brow furrowed, wondering why Scanlan would ask him that. Finally, he shrugged his massive shoulders. “Dunno. Ale and women have always been the two great loves of my life, can’t think of a reason I’d give ‘em up.”  
“But what if instead of paying to have sex with a different woman every night, instead you got to have sex with one woman every night for the rest of your life? Haven’t you ever wanted that?” Scanlan pressed.  
Perhaps it was Scanlan’s words, or perhaps it was the drink, but Grog’s mind was suddenly flooded by memories of his childhood.

He remembered being in so much pain that he had retreated into a dark place within his own mind and hiding there, even as he felt himself growing slowly weaker, pressure building on his chest until he could scarcely breathe. He was sure he was going to die.  
Then, light in the darkness. A beautiful face, wreathed with the warm holy light of benediction, and in his half dead state, he was certain that he was seeing an angel that had come to take his pain away, replacing it with warmth and happiness and peace.  
He had been surprised to wake in a too-small bed in a too-small house, with an ache in his back that told him he wasn’t dead after all. He sat up, and his head spun as his eyes focused on his saving angel. She turned to look at him when she heard the rustle of his sheets, and he wondered to himself why an angel would be so small.  
She chuckled. “I’m not an angel, I’m just a gnome. My name’s Pike, what’s yours?”  
He had paused then, unsure whether he should give her the name given to him by Kev’dak, or a new one. “...Grog,” he finally said.  
“Well here, drink some water than, Grog. You’ve been out for a while and you should rehydrate.”  
Despite the way she talked, He could tell she was young. She was even smaller than the gnome he had saved, and yet she had saved him. He took the water gratefully.

He also remembered the rattle of a runaway carriage, barreling towards them down the street. That was going to be the day he told her how he felt, but then it was ruined by one single moment. He heard the panicked whinney of two spooked horses, and without thinking, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the way. The moment that he pulled on her arm stretched like an eternity as he felt something pop, sickeningly, and heard her cry out.  
The next moment, they were safely in a side alley, but she was clutching her shoulder with a pained look on her face.  
He let go of her immediately. “Oh my gods, Pike, I am so sorry.”  
Despite clearly being in pain, Pike put on a brave face, smiling to comfort her distressed companion. “It’s alright Grog, it’s just a dislocated shoulder. Here, help me pop it back into place.”  
Grog took a step back. “But… what if I just hurt you worse? Pike, I’m not the healer, you are. Breaking things is all I’m good at, and I don’t want to break you.”  
Pike gasped in exasperation. “Fine, I’ll do it myself!” She braced herself against the wall, and crossed her arm in front of her, locking it into place with her other arm. One pull and one sickening pop later, and she was rolling her shoulder, wincing at the way the stressed joint complained as she did so.  
Grog tried to make Wilhand punch him after that, because if you hurt a man’s daughter (or great-granddaughter) he’s got the right to punch you, but Wilhand refused. Grog saved Pike from being roadkill after all, a dislocated shoulder was an acceptable collateral to him. Not to Grog though, and Pike was so small and delicate, he wouldn’t risk hurting her again.  
It had taken her weeks before she persuaded him to hug her again the way he used to.

He slowly swam his way back to the present, and realized that he’d been silent for far too long. “Yeah, I’ve met someone like that. What was her name? Oh yeah, your mom,” he told Scanlan, tilting his head up in a way that said ‘leave me alone or else.’  
Scanlan chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, fair enough.” But as foolish as he could sometimes be, he was not so foolish as to think nothing of Grog’s long, significant pause.

 

Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rollo III did not consider himself a meddler. He might tinker, he might investigate, he might even have a shenanigan or two, but he did not meddle. Meddling was something that Scanlan did, and it always always got him into trouble. Percy preferred to avoid that particular kind of trouble.  
Thusly, when he found himself offered the opportunity to talk to Pike (he was in Vassalheim and wanted to pay his respects to Sarenrae) he resolved that he was not going to make any attempt to “get those two crazy kids together.”  
He was a fully grown adult man, after all, not a sixteen year old girl.  
Though, perhaps, a couple of innocent questions were in order.  
He exchanged pleasantries with her (hello, how are you, how have things been going?) he decided to find a way to casually mention Scanlan’s initial hypothesis. The opportunity presented itself when the talisman he had gotten from her slipped out of his shirt. “You know, Scanlan had a theory that you were smitten with me because you gave me this,” he mentioned, toying with it idly.  
Pike raised her eyebrows. “Really? That’s quite the logic jump, even by his standards.”  
“I know! Apparently he overheard you telling Grog you had a magical way of checking up on the object of your affections, and assumed it was a device for scrying.”  
Pike smiled and shook her head. “That Scanlan, always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”  
“And sometimes his feces,” Percy agreed. “Naturally, I pointed out to him that the only member you showed any extra attention towards was your childhood friend, so whoever it was, they were probably wasn’t in our group at all.” He watched her reaction carefully, in the same way he watched the reaction of a material when exposed to a certain chemical.  
“Why Percival, is this your roundabout way of getting nosy about my lovelife? I expected this from Scanlan, but never from you!” Pike said, overacting her surprise to hide the fact that she was redirecting the conversation.  
“Perhaps. I am a knowledge seeker. And really, if you did want to tell someone without the whole group knowing, who better than the broody and reclusive tinkerer?” Percy smiled.  
“Well Percy, thank you for the offer. If I ever have the urge to talk about it, I’ll keep you in mind,” Pike said.  
Percy couldn’t help but feel disappointed, being shut down so thoroughly. Bottled up feelings were never easy to hide, surely Pike must be aching to tell someone. He decided that if she really wasn’t ready to give anyone an answer, he may as well warn her about the inquisition to come.  
“I probably shouldn’t have mentioned Grog, now Scanlan’s convinced that you must be in love with him. I told him that he was being foolish, but if Scanlan tries to get you to talk about Grog for seemingly no reason, that’s why.”  
Pike smiled. “Duly noted, thank you Percy.”  
“You know, I used to think that I was second behind Vax as the most enigmatic and mysterious of the group, but now I’m beginning to realize that you’ve got the both of us beat by a long shot. Congratulations, for all that’s worth.” He chuckled.  
Pike burst out laughing. “You think so?”  
“Yes, I really do.”  
She shook her head. “Well that certainly wasn’t my intention, sorry for stealing your swag or whatever it is you like to call it.”  
Percy snorted. “No apology needed, sorry for being nosy, I’m not normally. The mood just struck, I suppose.”  
“It’s alright. You’ll all find out eventually, when I’m ready to talk about it. Just, not right now, ok?”  
Percy nodded. “Fair enough. Now, tell me, how long until you can come adventuring with us again?”

Pike remembered the first time Grog had defended her, remembered the sudden appearance of a towering shield against the cruelty of children. She was walking her way to the temple of Sarenrae, like she often did. She had her weekly allowance from Wilhand in her pocket, like she often did. A couple of kids from some of the older gnomish families saw her and decided to make a nuisance of themselves, like they often did.  
“Say, somebody stole my pappa’s best watch. You know anything about that Trickfoot?” one said.  
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”  
“With the name Trickfoot, you must know something,” another said.  
“My grandpappy said you Trickfoots come from a family of sneak-thieves,” a third added.  
“We did at one point, but not anymore,” Pike replied evenly. She wasn’t ashamed of her family’s history.  
“Oh yeah? Turn out your pockets.”  
Pike chewed her lip resentfully, but turned out her pockets all the same. It was easier than picking a fight with three other kids. Besides, she’d just be proving them right in their eyes if she did. Her allowance spilled out onto the cobblestone, coins making a silvery sound as they clattered and rolled across the ground.  
“Hah! Knew it!”  
“That’s my allowance, not your father’s watch.”  
“Yeah right! I bet you just sold it! The pawner ripped you off by the way that watch was worth at least it’s weight in gold! Anyway, I guess I’ll just have to take what’s here.”  
That was when a voice, young and high-sounding compared to the deep baritone he would grow to have, came from several feet above her head. “No, I don’t think you will. I think you’ll empty your pockets instead, and apologize to the nice girl. Cos clearly, she ain’t stolen nothing.”  
The gnomes looked up as one unit, and when they saw the young goliath towering over them, Pike was pretty sure at least one of them pissed himself.  
Moments later, she found herself standing in a street covered in silver and copper coins, with no one but Grog for company. “Aw, they ran away. I was hoping I’d get to punch one of ‘em into next week.”  
Pike looked up at him. “You didn’t have to have them empty their pockets. Now they’ll say I really am a thief, with a big old bodyguard to do my dirty work!”  
“Maybe, but I’ll betcha they won’t mess with you anymore.” Grog began to pick up the coins.  
He’d been right, they hadn’t.

Pike also remembered the last time she had ever snuck into the local place of negotiable affections with Grog. He’d suggested it first when they had both been about twelve. “I don’t know Grog,” Pike said. “Couldn’t we get into trouble for that?”  
“Yeah, that’s part of what makes it fun!” Grog said.  
Pike got a mischievous look on her face, and decided to go along after all. She had kept going along, right up until she hit her own puberty, which was quite a bit later than Grog’s since she was a gnome. This was when she realized that as much fun as it was to sneak in for the thrill of it, it was much less fun to see Grog watching women with eyes wider than when he passed the candy shop.  
It took her a while, a long while, to realize that this was because she was jealous. Why should she be jealous? It wasn’t like she wanted him to look at her like that! Or did she? Regardless, he never did. Which was a good thing, she told herself, she didn’t want to be objectified or fantasized about! Although, it did feel kind of weird always being treated just like family. Maybe… a little fantasizing wouldn’t hurt?  
Not that it mattered, she was clearly past the Friendzone point of no return. She could walk around in front of Grog naked, and he’d just laugh and talk with her normally instead of staring at her the way he did those girls.  
When he was attracted to a girl, he made it very clear, so clearly she needed to just be happy with him as her friend. Which she was. Yeah, she could be happy just being friends, she could do that.

Another day, another monster fight, another night camped out in the woods, another burnt orange and cotton candy pink sunset on the horizon. Silhouetted against it were a massive man, all grey skin and bulky muscle, and a diminutive woman, clanky armor off for the night, pale hair down with a light breeze playing through it.  
“Hey Pike, I don’t say it often enough, but I love you. You know that right? Cos you’re the best family I could’ve asked for. Like, I think you're just amazing, and I’m never gonna let anybody hurt you.” He said. ‘Not even me,’ he did not say.  
The woman leaned against his side. “Yeah, I know. I love you too. But you know, you don’t always have to protect me, I’m pretty strong these days, I can protect myself.”  
“Yeah… You ever hear that thing about how elephants are scared of mouses?”  
She chucked, wondering how his brain had gotten from ‘love’ to ‘mouses.’ “It’s mice, but sure."  
“How come do you suppose that is?”  
“I don’t know maybe they’re just scared of something they don’t understand.”  
“Or maybe they know they could step on a mice by accident and just run away cos they wanna keep them safe.”  
“Maybe,” Pike agreed, peering at Grog quizzically. Then slowly, she recognized the path of his musings. “So you think that maybe if a mouse could ride on an elephant’s back, he wouldn’t have to run away, because there would be no risk of stepping on her?”  
“Yeah,” Grog agreed. Without further preamble, Pike got up and hoisted herself up onto Grog’s shoulders, legs dangling on either side of his broad neck. He looked up at her. “What’re you doing?”  
“Being a mouse.”  
“Oh. Ok.” Grog smiled.  
Pike looked at him, face upside down from her vantage point, and she could almost swear that she heard romantic music rising in the background.  
Suddenly Grog looked away from her and into the neighboring trees. “Oi, Scanlan, izzat you playing romantic music in the background?”  
The music stopped, and the bard stepped out from a bush, holding his lyr up. “Sorry, sorry, it seemed like you guys were having a moment, I wanted to help.”  
Pike felt her face flush, certain that she was bright pink to the tips of her pointy gnomish ears. “Scanlan!”  
“Alright, alright, I’m going. You two enjoy your sunset.” He scampered off.  
“Honestly, the nerve on that one, am I right?” Grog said.  
“Yeah, I don’t care if he had good intentions, he was still spying!”  
“And it’s not like we were doing anything romantical.”  
“Right,” Pike agreed.  
The sunset dimmed slowly, colors becoming muted and fading into dusky purples and blues at the edges, and still they sat, each wondering about what tomorrow might bring.


End file.
